Page 8 of Heartstrings & Horseshoes

She beams at me. “Miss you already.”

I walk out the door and the lock clicks behind me. Good girl.

As I walk to my truck, my heart bangs against my ribcage trying to get back to her, like it always does. But this time it’s worse.

Because for the first time, I’m leaving when she’s all mine.

5

“Holy shit! Connie wasn’t joking. He really moved you in.” Izzy’s eyes are bugging out of her head.

“I didn’t think he had it in him. Good for Connie. Finally making his move!” Livy adds.

“He hates when you call him that. Can you drop it?” I’m so tired of this argument.

“Yea, yea, yea. We know. You’re just friends. Blah, blah, blah. The only people who believe that nonsense are the two of you,” Izzy mocks.

Livy can’t help but pile on, “It’s okay, we’ll float around in denial with you.” She claps here hands. “What’s first?”

I invited the girls over to help me unpack because I’m overwhelmed by everything that’s transpired in the past day. My stomach growls—I haven’t eaten since yesterday at dinner, and I only had a small cup of soup—I’m starving. Things were so chaotic this morning, Connor didn’t nag me about breakfast, and this moving extravaganza eclipsed lunch.

“Well, he left me some money for groceries. He said it’s bare bones in the kitchen. So that’s a top priority, but I can do that later, it’s not a far walk.”

Izzy cuts in first. “No. The car is yours, Lilah. Reid’s picking me up later.” She drops the car key into my purse on the countertop. “Non-negotiable. Reid and I insist since I’ve essentially abandoned you, now that you live on your own, you need a car.”

I don’t like being doted on. I prefer taking care of people, so it’s difficult for me to accept acts of good will. Izzy and I saved for years to buy that little car when she turned sixteen. There was no way our parents would provide a vehicle for us. She took the car during her hiatus in Denver, but I didn’t mind. She needed it in the city, and I was perfectly content to walk or catch a ride with Connor, or Liv when she was in town.

Olivia Dalton’s been best friends with me and Izzy since elementary school. She’s just as much a sister as Izzy is.

“Thank you, sissy,” I concede and blow her a kiss.

Olivia walks over to her purse next to mine and grabs out her own keys and swipes the grocery money off the counter. “I’ll go grocery shopping while you twins unpack.” I open my mouth to refuse. “Babe, I’m not going to get into it with you right now, but you’re under an incredible amount of stress with so much change. You need calories, love. Dry salads and soup aren’t enough.” Her compassion shines through her tone.

When I hedge, she adds, “I’ll even pick up a gallon of Frank’s lemonade.” She gets the side eye, because she knows that’s my weakness.

I’ve struggled with food and body image since childhood. I go through phases where I’m better and eat more regularly, and phases where I struggle to choke down even a bite. I know she’s right, but it’s mortifying, as always, to have other people making decisions for me about my body.

There’s no way I can hide my eating habits from Connor now that we live together. He’ll realize how poorly I’ve been managing. The room is tilting, either from the lack of calories, or from the impending anxiety spiral.

I surrender. “Okay, thank you, Livy.”

In a red whirl, she’s out the door, leaving me alone with my sister. She’s looking at me in that way I hate, where she’s concerned and frustrated with me. Thankfully, she senses the topic needs to be tabled and moves on.

“Connor packed everything from the trailer he thought was mine. He unpacked all my bathroom stuff already, so do you want to help me fold and hang all my clothes?” I ask.

“You got it. Lead the way.” Izzy follows me the few steps to Connor’s bedroom. She pauses in the doorway, leans back to look right and left in the hall, and frowns at me. “Is this the only bedroom?”

“Mmhmm.”

“No way in hell is he making you sleep on the couch,” Izzy bites out.

“No, we’ll share his bed. It’s not a big deal, Iz.” No way, no how will she buy that.

Arms crossed, she purses her lips and narrows her eyes in that disapproving sister way that makes me want to smack her.

“Sure. It’s no big deal to share a bed with your male best friend. There’s no possible way that could go badly for you. You won’t grow even more attached to him and further blur the line you two so precariously toe.”

My teeth grind like nails on a chalkboard. I’m too tired for this conversation.